Waaagh!
by DuffKilliganFan
Summary: A bit of a prologue to a future work.


Waaagh!

How long had he waited for this day. All his life, he had known what he wanted to do.

He wanted to fight, and to kill the enemy. Any enemy would do, really. He certainly wasn't going to be choosy.

Finding a good fight wasn't easy, though. But that is not where his tale began…

He came into life in the usual manner, tearing his way from the ground, out of the thin skin around him, and into the filtered sunlight beneath the trees of a forest. A great patch of mushrooms spread across the floor like a carpet, and here and there some life forms could be seen. He knew them for what they were.

"Squigs," he said, feeling the words roll off his tongue.

It felt funny to speak… well, at all. It came to him without effort. He knew what he was, what he wanted to do, what he could eat, what was money, how to speak his language, his name, and much more. How this came to be, he couldn't say, not that he truly cared. Something in his head told him that he would eventually come across an answer.

Hefting his way out of his hole, he looked down, and realized that he would need some clothes. He was also hungry and a bit thirsty. He wanted to yell at something to bring him what he wanted, but he couldn't see or hear a thing. For all intents and purposes, he was alone.

"Well, me'm nub goin' ter starve ter dead," he said aloud, trying to say the words correctly. Grabbing a large stick, he walked over to one of the squigs. His gut told him it was an "Eatin' Squig." Raising the stick high, he smashed it into the squig's head before it could move away. Carefully peeling the skin off, he ate the meat inside, as well as a handful of mushrooms around him.

Once done his meal, he picked his stick back up, and set to work. He smashed several of the squigs, eating until he was full, and collecting their hides. That voice in his head told him that he shouldn't worry about killing them off- they would grow back underground like he did, only much faster.

Working with a sharp rock and the patience of someone with a lot of time on their hands, he managed to make a shirt and a crude pair of pants, complete with belt. He would need boots, but for now, this would do just fine.

Well, what to do now? He knew he wanted to fight, but where should he go to find one? Once again, the voice in his head told him what to do. He felt a pull, as if something was trying to lead him toward something.

He had a direction.

* * *

For a few days, he wandered through the dense forest, heading in what a human would call a southern direction. He was never short of food, and drank his fill at each spot of water he came across. What he wouldn't give for some beer, though. A nice mug of that would be much better then slimy pond water.

"Wait, me've neva ad no bea."

There were times that gut instinct could get annoying.

After about a week of travel, he came across a good sign (figuratively and literally). He burst out of the forest into a small meadow, and saw a structure standing there. It was at least three times taller then he was. A small ladder led to a platform up top, so that someone could climb it and use the old gun mount in the center of it. That wasn't what caught his eye, though. No, it was the large boards that had been nailed to the sign, painted red, and then had a single word written on it.

Waaagh!

He had found a "Waaagh banner". His hearts leapt with joy, and he ran up to it, and began to run his hands across it, just to be sure it was real. He knew what this meant. Somewhere, most likely further south, there was a Warboss, and he was recruiting for a Waaagh! He was absolutely thrilled, and wanted to continue on. The sun was setting, however, and it would soon be too dark to see. Despite the desire to continue onward, he decided to camp for the night.

Resting beneath the "Waaagh banner" next to his small fire, he munched on the mushrooms he grabbed before the sun fell. His club rested by his side, and his mind was filled with thoughts of fighting and killing, of winning eternal fame and glory.

He was so intent on his thoughts, he didn't hear them coming until it was almost too late.

Footsteps were crashing through the undergrowth. Taking his club in hand, he pulled himself into cover behind the "Waaagh banner," intent on taking them by surprise. He wasn't ready for what came out of the trees, though.

Two Orks walked out of the trees, each with a weapon in hand. One carried a club like his, and the other had tied a rock tightly in a nook between two of the branches. Just behind them came a third figure, about half the size of the two. Its head seemed almost too large for its body and its nose and ears were absolutely huge. It was one of the things he wanted to yell at to get him stuff- a Gretchin.

As they walked towards the fire, one of the Orks tripped, and hit the ground with a massive thud. His friend laughed before pointing at the fire.

"See, meeb told ya meeb smelieed sumthing, Grot-brain."

"Yeah, but me'm da wun who said if weeb try ter track it down tonight, we'd 'urt ourselvz," the other Ork said, picking leaves and twigs off his clothes.

"Ah, qwit yer whinin' ya git, an 'elp meeb find da owna o' this 'ere flame," The other said, hefting his club to his shoulder.

That was all he could take, and he stepped from the shadows. The other two Orks looked at him with a mix of surprise and suspicion.

"Ease up lads. This erez mi fire."

The stone-club Ork asked, "Who are ya?"

"Mi name iz Gazmut," he answered. "An wodda they calls ya twuu?"

The wood-club Ork said "Mi name iz Thraka,an this erez Grot-face."

The stone-club Ork reached back and swatted his laughing friend in the face. Thraka went down hard, and the nervous Gretchin squealed in fear.

"They calls meeb Stogmeat," he said, looking down at his still laughing friend.

Still laughing, Thraka stood up and dusted himself off. Looking down, he gave the Gretchin a swift kick. "Qwit yer whinin' an git sum more wud fer da fire!"

"An sum mushrooms!" Stogmeat yelled after the fleeing Gretchin as the three sat around the fire.

* * *

The three Orks and one Gretchin left after a dawn meal of mushrooms, heading south. The pull never strengthened or weakened, but remained constant. All of them could feel it, and all of them felt the desire to go to it.

Soon, they came across more "Waaagh banners" and pressed on even faster. They knew the "Waaagh banners" would lead them to a Warboss and he would take them to a fight. True, the Gretchin was afraid to fight, but he wanted to serve the Orks, and this was the way to them.

At long last, there it was. The four crested a hill and saw a wonderful sight. A number of slap-shod buildings stood in a valley with no apparent order to them. Most were constructed of rusting sheet metal. A large number of "Waaagh banners" stood around and throughout the settlement, but unlike the previous ones, these had guns mounted in their turrets, and a Gretchin manned each one. What really caught their eyes, though, was the populace of this place.

There were Orks and Gretchin everywhere. A bunch of Mekboyz, watched over by a Big Mek were hard at work manufacturing axes and shootas. A number of Painboyz wandered around, looking for someone to test their latest concoction on. A rather large brewer was selling his wares, while a yeller was shouting about Gork and Mork and how great they were.

Then there were the warriors. By far the largest part of a massive population of Orks, there were literally thousands, if not as many as a million of them. Could either Thraka, Stogmeat or Gazmut count that high, they would have been impressed.

They didn't have too long to admire the sight though. A very large Ork, by far the largest one there, walked up to a podium. Kicking a Grot out of the way, he stepped up to the podium. Tossing his head back, he let out a massive yell.

"Awright, lissen up ya gits an grots!

"Me'm da biggest so me'm da boss!"

This statement was met with a cheer. He was the biggest, so he was definitely the Warboss.

"Me'm in da mood fer a gud scrap! Ow ubbout da rest o' ya!?"

Another great cry went up from the Ork ranks. Cries of "Let's get luggin'!" and "Yes! Dakka, dakka, dakka!" came from the massive number of assembled Orks.

The Warboss let out a great roar to quiet down the unruly mobs of Orks.

"Da Mekboyz ab found us a uumie woild nub too far from 'ere, an meeb say it will be ours!"

More cheers.

"Trust meeb boyz, this 'ere be a roight an propa Waaagh!"

More cheering came from the Orks as the Warboss let out the cry "Git on da rok!"

Not a word passed between the four as they rushed forward to join the thronging mob of Orks and Gretchins.

At last, a fight!


End file.
